


It's a Vint Thing

by marreena



Series: non omnis moriar [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fisting, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marreena/pseuds/marreena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about the Inquisitor withering in his lap that Krem can get used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Vint Thing

**Author's Note:**

> new school year, new shitty smut

He isn’t sure if it’s from her being nobility or whatever; there’s just something about the way she moves, the way she holds herself. Krem could think of a hundred different things that could explain how she moves through a room, commanding the attention of every one around her to  be solely focused on her actions alone. Of course, the thought of _well she is inquisitor_  is first and foremost amongst most of his thoughts, but he thinks of the Trevelyan he knew before the inquisition had really becamethe thing that it is right now, and how she eased her way through negotiating with Bull at Storm Coast.

He watches her as she marches across her room to the bookcase only to turn back to him, and then pivot again. She’s never without words, something that _everyone_  in the Inquisition is well aware of, and her mouth is running even faster with the aid of the glass of wine in her hand. 

Of course, she never drinks straight out of the bottle as her mother always said, that’s for when you’re alone and a drunk and her sister would add _and ready to shove the glass somewhere it shouldn't be_. Krem himself is nursing a bottle of his own. It’s not his first choice of alcohol but he sees both the Inquisitor and Dorian practically chug it at any opportunity. Something that when questioned about, she apologized to Cullen and then mentioned with her age she had never been allowed to do so before. 

The tease of her age is almost always directed at Cullen, who gets profusely flustered at her comment before demanding once again how old she was and if she truly should be drinking alcohol, _is it even safe_? The jokes about her age are meaningless, Krem knows. She may be young, nearing 24 and being only 19 when the Conclave had happened puts her at extremely young considering most of her inner circle were older by at least ten years with the exception of Sera. 

She stutters to a stop in her rant and movement before her eyes land daringly on him, as if she knew he was only listening with one ear and thinking about how watching her move was quite distracting and that she was honestly too appealing when complaining about her cousins in Tevinter and Nevarra making demands, _again_. Politics is something he will never get and is grateful that there’s people like Josephine and the Inquisitor who just have a plain knack for that type of thing. It makes his job a lot easier if he doesn’t have to think about all the alliances that they are juggling when he cuts through another mercenary group and trust that he was sent to the right one. 

She finishes her glass only to be already pouring another—she has already finished one bottle, he should probably stop her soon—and turns to face him, “Every time I go to Josephine I swear she tells me I have another god awful cousin trying to take advantage of a Trevelyan having this much power. I knew the Trevelyan’s were a large family, but  _this_ large? I’m certain most of them are bullshitting me.” 

“Just wait for your cousins in Par Vollen to contact you,” he jokes, and she blanches for a moment and then laughs. 

“I’m already almost damned vint, might as well add some Qunari or even Dalish. Maybe that would even it out for the Chant.”

His eyes trail down to where her hand has finally stopped clutching the glass and lets it rest on her desk with everything else that is barely neat. As she moves towards him, he’s reminded again of how her chin tilts up, her steps each punctuated with the rhythm of her hips, the pure control that she exudes even when she’s drunk off her ass. Everything she does commands his utmost attention to how she simply _moves_. She’s not even doing anything besides that. 

There’s little grace, however, in how she practically throws herself into the couch and relaxes down. “Krem, what would you do?” 

Her head lolls a bit at the question but her eyes stay trained on his or maybe just him in general. He thinks that she might be past that point of intoxication. 

His answer is easy and immediate, “Tell my family to fuck themselves. They never helped me before.” 

The blunt answer causes her to laugh, “Mm, I’ll try that, Krem. Thanks."

It’s then he can feel the shift in the room; the way she leans just a bit closer, how he can practically see all of her thoughts leaving her for thoughts that are probably not decent at all. Then again, he’s certain that half of her thoughts are not decent in the slightest. 

There’s a reason why she got with Bull so well. 

Of course, she also _didn’t_ , and that reason alone was one of the few things that gave him the go ahead to not stopping her from leaning forward and catching his lips. It’s so _easy_  how she kisses. The kisses definitely edge on sloppy but they have enough pureness behind them that he doesn’t mind it as much as he usually would. Each press of her lips is followed with a swipe of her tongue or the bite on his lips, and each of these afterthoughts draw him in more and more. 

It’s when she starts practically throwing her entire body into the kisses that he realizes that that’s her hands clutching his hair and shoulder and her thigh that’s thrown over his. He finally moves on his own and makes the hand that had been lazily and mindlessly caressing her thigh move up to her ass and squeeze. She laughs against his lips—a little breathily—and pulls away from the kiss to press one last closed mouth one. 

He laughs too and then starts placing kisses on the skin underneath her chin and then neck, each one a little more desperate than the last. “Are you sure about this?” he asks, but it feels only half there because he’s still placing harder and harder kisses against her pulse point and then her tendon that is stretched out from her tilting her head up. 

Her moan is soft but definitely there when he places a bite on a particular spot of her neck. “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t have invited you to _talk_  in my room,” she answers with a pleased smile. 

She does have a point. However, he has to ask, “This is casual, right?” 

“I intended it to be,” she answers, but she’s irritated by it. He can tell. Even though it’s been a couple months, the end of her and Bull’s relationship had been a sudden and quite rough one, but as both of them insisted it was _absolutely fine and mutual_. Yeah, _whatever_ , they might both be great at lying, but everyone in Skyhold can hear them bullshitting. 

Well, _whatever_ , she’s not going to like being pushed anymore so he continues kissing down her neck to her chest. He thanks the Maker that she likes to switch from her more professional, tighter garb into a softer cotton shirt to signal to people to think twice about interrupting her from spending time on her own or with her friends. It’s much easier to pull off and he can immediately kiss one of her nipple through the tighter brazier. 

All past tensions melt out of her shoulders with each roll of his tongue; her body practically fits to him, _molds_ to him. Each touch he gives her, she moves to make it all the bit better. Everything he gave her, she _doubled_. 

It’s really something else to have the Inquisitor withering in his lap. 

Her hand clutches in his shirt against his back, once, twice, and he gets the message and strips his own shirt. Nails dig into his back immediately but not enough to cause a lot of pain, just enough to ground him to her. “Krem,” she murmurs just on the tip of her tongue, another command, and he undoes her brazier. 

She sighs at the feeling of finally being freed of it and then gasps at him rolling her nipples between his callous-roughened fingers. There’s a tap on his back that gives him a warning before she speaks, “I didn’t know you were such a breast guy.” 

“I know how to appreciate a great pair,” the joke twerks both of their lips up. 

However, there’s only so far they can get on the couch— _comfortably_ —and so he tugs her up by her pants. Her entire weight is resting in his arms; the liquor is still having a huge affect on her ability to effectively move. So, he does what seems logical for one very intoxicated and one moderately intoxicated person to do, he lifts her up. She lets out a squeak at first and then wraps her arms around his neck and clumsily manages to get her legs around him too—although that also took him helping position them.

The moment her legs are around his waist, though, their locked and rolling against his to try and get any friction available. She then slows and instead focuses on kissing him, sensually and languidly. It’s this that lets Krem know how this night is going to go: slow and long as apposed to the more frequent hard and fast. He doesn’t have a preference to how they do it, although he did at first, now he doesn’t mind either. Any type of sex with the Inquisitor is great sex. 

It takes them a while to get to the bed; every other step he had to stop and regain his balance in fear of having them both tumble to the floor. There’s a good chance that if that were to happen they would not be able to get up. Her bed is definitely softer than his in the barracks and smells a hell of a lot better too. The only thing that he dislikes is that there is enough bounce in it that she immediately is able to flip them over. 

Her hands roam all over his body. It’s the first time tonight that she has absolute control and she uses it to her advantage in letting her hands slide and grope all over his body, but one finally settles in between his legs and rubs at him through his pants. He suddenly wishes that he were out of his pants and that she was too. Thankfully, they are both in agreement on that as she tugs down his and not even bothers to mess with actually undoing them. Before she can do anything else, Krem tugs Trevelyan’s pants down too, and she nearly falls off the bed because of the sudden movement. 

She does, however, end up tumbling down onto the bed off of him and laughs the entire time at it. He’s about to push himself onto of her but a hand on the center of his chest, right against his binding, stops him. He thinks for a moment that he’s going to feel just how strong the Inquisitor really is—and she _is_  extremely strong, maybe even more so than him—and feel her push him over forcefully; however, he’s wrong as her touch softens and wills him into settling onto his back. 

Her hand finds its place again between his legs as her mouth is still incessantly moving against his. Her fingers drag slowly over his clit, thus dragging the fabric just over his clit back and forth. Krem moans out, but she catches that too with her tongue, and eats up every sequential noise after that. For a moment, he feels a bit embarrassed by how soaked he is though his own small clothes, but he knows how much it arouses the Inquisitor to see how he is practically dripping for her. He was probably already wet the moment that she started pacing around the room. 

“Trev,” he murmurs against her lips, and she understands instantly. Perhaps maybe another time he’d be interested to know how she _always_  knows what he’s exactly asking for when he simply moans at her. _I’m a great interpreter,_  he can already hear her saying with an accompanied laugh and maybe even a blush high on her cheeks. 

She pulls away from the kiss and moves down his body before making quick work of his small clothes. Her gaze is completely sated with lust and alcohol as she gazes up from in between his legs until she less than gracefully presses her face against his cunt. Krem moans and arches his back in response to her tongue going straight to his core and lapping at the opening there. Her tongue teases his opening; the tip of it circles just the outer rim before pressing harder into the top of it.

Krem is nearly beside himself. 

There’s something almost wrong about knowing that not only is the Inquisitor who is an amazing orator but she’s even better at using that same mouth to eat out. Each movement of her tongue sends Krem even closer and closer to the edge. He’s gasping and clutching at the sheets shamelessly now—even if he wanted to withhold himself, he couldn’t. As usual, though, when he finally feels that build of heat and pressure low in his stomach, she pulls away. 

His body immediately responds and falls down onto the bed; his heart beat thrumming through his body, leaving him shaking. The smile that plays on her lips completely coy as she dips down again. Nothing could have prepared him for the way she kisses and _sucks_ on his clit, and as always she doesn’t give him a breather before plunging three fingers into him easily. “Trev!” he shouts and reaches to grasp anything at this point. She’s relentless with both her tongue and fingers pressing against him, drawing out the best pleasure. 

It barely takes him a couple minutes before he’s already back at the edge, and before he can even register it, he's over. He cries out and rolls his hips against her face, desperately trying to ride out his orgasm. The pleasure overtakes him as he sags against the bed; every part of himself is saturated with pure pleasure and warmth of an amazing finish. 

She pulls away when he taps her shoulder once to signal that he cannot take anymore. The sight of her kneeling in between his legs licking her fingers clean sends one more sharp note of arousal through his body and he shudders. “Enjoyed that?” she asks, the coy smile still on her face, but the alcohol has notably drained a little bit. 

He nods and reaches out to pull her down onto him, and perhaps that wasn’t the best idea as his body is so overheated right now, her extra heat does not help. The resulting kiss is worth it, though. There’s no longer the overwhelming taste of wine on her tongue, instead there’s just a hint with a  more prominent taste of himself.

The kiss is slow and something that normally Krem would akin to making love. It’s slow, sensual, rolling and the soft touches of her fingers on his face and his fingers dancing along her hips. The way after every kiss he can feel the smile tugging at both of their lips and the coy flutter of eyelashes that she does when he pulls away all feel like _love_. And there is love behind their every touch and caress—just not the type of love that is between two lovers. No, it’s a type of love that stems from unbidden trust between two people.

He flips them and presses a couple more kisses to her lips before pulling away. Even though he’s the one who just came, she look thoroughly debacked and relaxed, her eyes drooping just a bit. “Trev?” he asks. She nods and hums in response as she reaches behind him to undo his binding finally. “I wanna try something, just relax. Okay?” 

She nods and easily lays back against the bed. Her eyes close and she lets out a soft gasp as he trails his lips down her body. The skin is surprisingly soft except for a couple rough spots of scars that still haven’t healed yet. He, however, stops even before he makes it to her belly button and sits back on his heels. A tension suddenly feels her body as this is not going where she expected it to, and she’s suddenly curious. “Krem?” she asks, as always, she’s unable to remain not vocal for long. 

He just hums and doesn’t answer her, and he knows that that makes her a bit irked but also more drawn in. She’s undoubtably _excited_ to see what he has in store for her. There’s a small vial of scented oil in her bedside table that he retrieves, and she’s even more curious at that. She doesn’t mind _that_ —as in getting something up the ass—she’d just rather prefer something else. Krem knows that and plans on delivering something much, much better, at least he hopes so. 

There’s a quirk of humor on her lips when he presses two of his slick fingers deep into her. There’s absolutely no resistance at this point and even without the added oil, she’s absolutely drenched. He loves that she’s already that far gone from just pleasing him and not touching herself.

“Krem,” she murmurs again as he presses a third finger into the tight heat that is the Inquisitor’s cunt. Her eyes fluttered shut and she moans at the feeling of finally being stretched open like she had probably wanted to all night. She had mentioned it once after sex that she loved his hands; how rough they are, how much longer they are than hers, how much stronger they are—and she went on. Perhaps it had been her just trying to get him riled up—it worked—but he’s caught her gaze when it settles on his hands when he’s doing simple things such as holding a tankard or reaching for the hilt of his ax. 

She’s insatiable. 

Her body nearly snaps the moment he surprises her and presses another finger into her. She clenches _hard_  and her eyes snap open to watch Krem in what he’s doing. “Relax,” he answers and uses his other hand to rub her clit slowly. Although at first the action causes her to clinch even more as each time he presses against her, she mirrors it and rocks against his finger. When his other hand leaves her clit, though, it has its desired affect of causing her to relax. He easily presses his fingers in to his knuckles and she absolutely keens in response, trying to spread her legs even farther apart. 

At this point, she’s panting and rocking into his thrusts, trying to get more from him, but he doesn’t let her. Her body is completely slick with sweat and he can practically feel her heart beat thrumming through her—she’s close. 

“Krem,” she begs and throws her face to the side. Her hands clench at the sheets and he can tell she’s trying not to completely lose it; he knows if he were to touch her clit and rub at it, she would be gone in an instant. It’s only because he’s not touching it that she’s not completely gone to pleasure. “ _Krem_ ,” she repeats again. 

He uses his hand to steady the roll of her hips until they are nothing but little rocks. He thinks, maybe he should warn her about what he’s about to do, but he _also_  think that she looks absolutely pleased right now following his lead and being strewn about the bed. Trevelyan is absolutely relaxed everywhere except her thighs that are tensed to show that although she’s not showing it besides the soft moans rolling through her lips and sheen of sweat, she is ready to come. 

Krem tucks his thumb in, makes sure that it’s still plenty slick, and plunges in. Her entire body jolts as his knuckles press against her opening and then pop in. “ _Krem!_ ” she hisses and cries out, a mix of pain and pleasure coloring her voice. He watches her carefully again as he continues pressing until the knuckle of his thumb stretching her. 

“Relax,” he commands because there’s no way he’ll actually be able to get the rest of his hand in her when she’s this tight, but _oh_ , she’s gripping his hand in all the right ways and shiver runs down his spine. He can only imagine how this must feel for her. 

Tears prick in her eyes, but she eventually settles down. Her body is still as tense as ever and absolutely ripping through her thighs by clawing at them with her hands, but her chest rises and then falls as she takes a deep breath and calms herself. “Fucking do it,” she groans out and stops herself from moving. 

He chuckles and obliges, sinking his hand in all the way. 

It’s like something in Trevelyan just _snaps_ —her back is completely arched off the bed, her mouth open, tears falling from her eyes because it’s just _so much_. He shifts his hand just a bit, and that’s enough to set her off. The feeling around his hand can only be described as absolute sin, but he can barely even focus on how wet and soft she feels on the inside because of her. 

“Krem!” she cries out and tries to rock her hips against his small thrust that do little more besides rub against her. She’s barely calmed down from her first orgasm when the second one hits her, and somehow, she is even louder. Gasps and moans roll out of her mouth one after the other. Oh Maker, she’s completely lost to the pleasure. 

He loses count of how many times she tightens around him, of how many times she calls out to him asking for _more_ of the soft rocks of his hand—he’s completely lost in the sight of her withering on her bed with his hand completely inside her. Even his sense of smell is taken up by the smell of her arousal. It isn’t until she taps him on the shoulder that he stops. “Too much,” she whimpers and he chuckles. 

Another shudder racks her body when he pulls his hand out. He wipes it on the sheet before leaning down and kissing her. Her nose wrinkles and she pushes him away, “Give me a moment, Krem. _Maker_.” Even though she is still out of breath, she manages to laugh. Krem laughs too and then kisses her right under the jaw to make up for it. 

“Good?” he asks.

She nods and hums, wrapping her arms around him, “Almost too good. You need to work on that.” 

He tucked his head underneath her chin and nuzzled there, “Hm, you’re offering, right?"

“Only if you’re taking.” 

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Come on, Fenri! Show them the fisting trick!” Isabela laughs out and nearly knocks over her drink, but Aveline grabs it before she can make an even bigger mess than she’s already making of the card game. Although that’s more than likely her plan as Josephine already has her down way more than she has in her pocket. 

It perks the interest of the drunken group—well, as much as it can considering half of them are almost passed out or sobbing from losing—and Fenris just chuckles in response. “Maybe later,” he promises but is more likely empty. 

“Oh, but the lovely Inquisitor just loves fisting! You must show her!” Dorian exclaims and Trevelyan feels her blood run cold despite the amount of ale she just gulped down. 

“ _Dorian!_ "

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i literally wrote this all for fisting jokes around fenris and the quiz 
> 
> also for the horrified few of the inner circle who thought bull fisted her because lmao they can't believe he fit his dick in there much less his hand which is the size of her waist


End file.
